You’ve probably heard of this movie. If not, or if, having heard of it, you had reservations about it (I did), here’s the good news: it’s better than you think. It’s an incredible, brilliant movie that shows Temple Grandin’s triumph over both the problems autism gave her, and the society that did not have a […] [...more]

You’ve probably heard of this movie. If not, or if, having heard of it, you had reservations about it (I did), here’s the good news: it’s better than you think. It’s an incredible, brilliant movie that shows Temple Grandin’s triumph over both the problems autism gave her, and the society that did not have a clue and did not believe autistic people had a future. And it shows the value of her life’s work, her designs for livestock management. Because of her, half the livestock facilities in the world–not just here–handle their stock more humanely. And–(yes, there’s more) it shows how she thinks–because it is a visual medium, a movie can show the pictures she thinks with. Read the rest of this entry »

Sometimes I feel like jumping up and screaming “FINALLY!” at the research end of things. This summer there have been several really good research reports, some mentioned in national media as well, on autism-spectrum issues. But what I want to highlight tonight is the one that sparked the “FINALLY!” reaction. [...more]

Sometimes I feel like jumping up and screaming “FINALLY!” at the research end of things. This summer there have been several really good research reports, some mentioned in national media as well, on autism-spectrum issues. But what I want to highlight tonight is the one that sparked the “FINALLY!” reaction.

Today I gave a presentation on The Speed of Dark over the internet to a group at Howard Community College in Maryland–while sitting on a comfortable couch in Texas. Technology has advanced to this point, and I wanted to try it–besides, I knew I would not be able to travel to Maryland in person in […] [...more]

Today I gave a presentation on The Speed of Dark over the internet to a group at Howard Community College in Maryland–while sitting on a comfortable couch in Texas. Technology has advanced to this point, and I wanted to try it–besides, I knew I would not be able to travel to Maryland in person in the time-frame they wanted.

What fascinated me, besides playing with technology I didn’t know, was the degree to which this particular setup messes with sensory input. I had a light-bulb moment when I realized that the audio breakup (just enough of one) and the blurriness of the faces looking back at me–blurry enough that I could not see any of the usual cues of facial movement–and the delay between when I said something and when they saw/heard me say it–all made my experience more autistic than I’d expected. I was having to put way more energy and concentration into figuring out their reactions, and what they were saying than usual.

The organizer sent email telling me that discussion went on in the hall after I “left”, which is a good sign. I hope it was as valuable for them as it was for me.

In another venue someone asked if anyone else’s child on the autism spectrum hated to hear their mother sing. My answer was yes: when our son was pre-verbal, he didn’t much like singing at all (with the exception of a lullaby I’d made up for him early on) but he did like music…until the 18 […] [...more]

In another venue someone asked if anyone else’s child on the autism spectrum hated to hear their mother sing.

My answer was yes: when our son was pre-verbal, he didn’t much like singing at all (with the exception of a lullaby I’d made up for him early on) but he did like music…until the 18 months when he didn’t. For about two years I was choir director for a very small church’s very small choir, and I could not have him in the church while we rehearsed–he’d scream the whole time.

Once he began to talk (a process that took years to achieve) he complained about singing. He liked music–he liked to have me play the piano, and began playing himself very early–but singing, especially in groups, seemed almost to hurt him. (His early ability on the piano, combined with being nonverbal, made us consider if he might be a musical savant. Not many preschoolers will start playing along with very complex difficult classical music.)

Though he gradually came to accept some vocal music, with a single (very good) singer, things changed again for an 18 month period. Suddenly (as in, within one week) he could not stand any music at all, even music he had enjoyed before. Music in the mall, music in a restaurant, music on the radio or TV–none of it. His language at this stage was what is called “right-brain”–the way people speak who have had damage to their left-brain auditory processor, the main language center (Broca’s area.) Stilted and downright peculiar syntax, little emotional expression, etc. And music is processed (for most people) mostly in the right-brain auditory processor. Were the two interfering when both words and music came in together?

Autistic individuals have differences in sensory processing. They may have perfect vision according to an eye chart…perfect hearing when tested with pure tone audiometry–and yet be unable to “see” and “hear” what others see and hear. In addition, autistic individuals react to environmental inputs others tend to ignore, and do not react to those others […] [...more]

Autistic individuals have differences in sensory processing. They may have perfect vision according to an eye chart…perfect hearing when tested with pure tone audiometry–and yet be unable to “see” and “hear” what others see and hear. In addition, autistic individuals react to environmental inputs others tend to ignore, and do not react to those others find important. Thus the autistic child’s near-universal intolerance of tags in the back of shirts, seams in socks, “floaters” in orange juice, and inability to judge the speed of oncoming traffic when crossing the street.

One of my textbooks on autism dismissed the idea that sensory processing problems could be central to autism because the writer saw no way that these differences could result in the more obvious social and language deficits. That person clearly had no experience in programming computers, where “garbage in, garbage out” is a common mantra.

If a person is not getting the same sensory information in, they will not experience the world the same–and will not behave the same. The color blind person does not see that the traffic light is red–and does not stop unless its position warns him. Normal social interaction rests on the senses–on our ability to extract information from our senses, assign meaning to it, and respond in a way our society approves.